


Musings on Sweet Revenge

by Dawnwind



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:41:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four Drabbles on the events surrounding Sweet Revenge</p>
            </blockquote>





	Musings on Sweet Revenge

One Hundred Hours 

 

Hutch had counted. Ten a.m. May 15th until one p.m. May 19th was one hundred hours.

Too long since Starsky had last spoken seconds before bullets brought him down. Meaningless drivel about steak and lobster. Too long since Hutch had admitted what was in his heart.

Starsky had waked at hour seventy-five, with the drowsy lassitude of good morphine, and smiled his recognition of Hutch. But time had passed, arrests had been made, and still Starsky drowsed, only half pulled from the inbetween, where life met death.

Hutch could wait another hour. He could wait forever.

"Hutch," Starsky said. That was enough.

~*~

Too Much

Three days in the hospital, at Starsky's bedside or following the suspects' trails. Three days in the same clothes, not enough sleep, not enough food—but it was worth it, Starsky was still alive. Still fighting.

Hutch only meant to stop home to change— couldn't handle much more. Couldn't handle being away from Starsky for too long.

Mail was bulging out of the mail box, newspapers piled on the doorstep.

The stark headline was too much— **Cop Gunned Down in Police Garage.**  
Starsky's picture smiling up at him, bright and full of life.

Suddenly cold, Hutch sat on the step and wept.

~*~

One Week

One week—seven days, one hundred sixty eight hours, too many minutes to count.  
How long would it be before he stopped measuring length of time since May fifteenth, 10:30 in the morning?

Hutch exhaled, watching Starsky do the same in his sleep. Watching Starsky frown slightly—from pain? At a half-recalled nightmare memory of bullets, shrieking metal and shards of glass? 

It was time to move forward; shrug off the paralysis of dread and doubt.

He'd watched Starsky wake from the dead, had found courage and arrested Gunther. 

It was time to live and accept the love in his partner's eyes.

~*~

The End of an Era

 

The theme to _Welcome Back, Kotter_ faded to silence when Hutch turned the volume down on the television. He looked over at Starsky snoozing in the hospital bed and smiled, weary himself. It had been a long three weeks, but the ordeal wasn't over. May had slipped into June, and Starsky continued to recover. 

Starsky had tried to stay up late enough to watch the finale of the series, but the consequence of being shot three times in the chest had sapped his endurance. 

Hutch bent to tuck the blankets under Starsky's chin and saw one blue eye pop open. 

"I was watching that!"

"You were watching the inside of your eyelids."

Starsky frowned peevishly and looked up at the silent sweathogs nodding in unison to some question Kotter had asked. "The last one ever."

"It's just a TV show, Starsk." Hutch sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You ever feel like this is the end of an era?" Starsky asked softly. "Like everything has changed?" He put one hand on his bandaged chest.

"We haven't changed." Hutch leaned down to kiss Starsky's lips. "No matter what, we're still the same."

"Me and thee, Hutch, always and forever."


End file.
